


Attraction (No Longer Updating)

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexuality isn't as black and white as it seems, and John's beginning to figure it out. ((I already posted this, but I accidentally deleted it because I'm stupid. WHOOPS)) (Also, this work is incomplete, and will no longer be updating. I apologize for the inconvenience.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            Your name is John Egbert, and right now, you are really confused.  You always thought that you were 100% heterosexual, interested only in females, and that was that.  No one really ever questioned your sexuality, because why would they?  You dated a few girls in high school, and ever since you’ve been in college, you have gone out on several dates with several more.  You know that you are not totally homosexual, because you still like girls, and you think you’ll always like girls, and this is the first time anything like this has happened.

You are now ogling every guy that walks by as you sit at your lonely little table in the food court of the student center at your university. You don’t feel anything looking at them, not a single spark of curiosity or wonder or anything else, and that obviously means that this newfound feeling is not very applicable to any other man.  This is most likely a one-time deal, but it’s still left you shaking in your boots.  You figure that this would be a normal reaction for anyone who spent twenty years being heterosexual, only to one day have the wind knocked out of them just by looking at someone of the same sex.

            Your name is John Egbert, and you decide to analyze what exactly happened, because maybe that will get you some answers.

            You were in the locker room at your university’s health center, and you just finished a good, hour-long session of jogging.  You passed by row and row of see-through lockers until you got to the row where your locker was, and you gathered your things to get into the shower and rinse the sweat off your body.  Since all you did was rinse yourself off, you were out of the shower within two or three minutes, and in another minute, you were fully dressed and ready to go.  Once more, you gathered all of your things, and you headed out of the building.

            You got all the way to your car before you realized that your keys were missing.  After thoroughly checking every pocket and concluding that your keys were indeed M.I.A., you made the trek back to the health center to search your locker.  It was highly probable that you just left your keys in your locker after locking it up, considering that you have actually done it before.

            You entered the building and explained to the woman at the front desk that you left your keys and all you wanted to do was get them.  The woman let you by, and you entered the locker room, scanning the rows of lockers until you found the right aisle. You turned into the aisle, and instantly stopped.  Standing there, facing away from you, was a half-naked guy with a towel around his waist, and another one over his head.  He was actively drying his hair with the second towel, and so you were certain he couldn’t see you.  You stood there for a few seconds at first, not really understanding what your brain was telling you.  Then you slowly started to realize that you were scanning him, absorbing every little detail that you saw, all the way from his jutting shoulder blades to his lightly toned abdomen.  He had muscle definition, unlike your poor, wiry frame, and you sort of envied him for that.  He had muscle everywhere, too, and it made you think that he must be an athlete involved in some kind of contact sport. 

            After another few seconds of staring, you started to notice the smaller details, such as the light, very small freckles on his shoulder, and the small, raised scar on his lower back, just above his hip.  You notice how clear his complexion is, and how he seems to be pale at first glance, but how he is actually a lot tanner than you are.  You let your eyes wander from the tops of his shoulders all the way down his back to his hips, and you think that it is quite possibly the most attractive thing you have ever seen.  The thought would scare you later, but right now you could barely look away.

            Your entire scan took anywhere between thirty to forty-five seconds total, but you couldn’t be too sure on the exact number.  Either way, forty-five seconds is a long time for anyone to dry their hair with a towel, but you’re still kind of surprised when he raises his head and starts to pull the towel away from his face.  Afraid of being caught, you instantly fled to the bathroom section of the locker room, locking yourself in the furthest stall.  You waited at least five minutes, until you were sure he was absolutely gone, before you finally came out and moved to retrieve your keys.

 

Now, thirty minutes later, you’re still just as nervous and confused.  You glance down at your half-eaten slice of pizza, and know that you’re still way too freaked out to eat the rest of it.  You’re having a crisis, a sexuality crisis, and you really need to talk to someone about it.  Rose would just try to analyze why this was happening, and Jade would just lightly tease you before telling you that she didn’t know how to help. You pull out your phone and start messaging the only person you know who might be of any help in this situation.

EB:  dave!  
EB:  dave!!!!!  
EB:  daaaaaaaave!!!!!!!!  
TG:  woah egbert calm down man  
TG:  whats going on  
TG:  is the world ending  
TG:  hang on lemme get my keys ill be right there  
EB:  no, dave! i need to talk to you and i wanted to make sure you weren’t busy! it’s really important!  
TG:  oh well nope not busy  
TG:  just sitting around doing coolkid things  
TG:  updating comics mixing beats that sort of thing  
TG:  whats so fucking important  
TG:  jesus john im hanging off the edge of my seat  
EB:  no! it’s none of that! i just really want to talk to you!  
EB:  something happened and i really need to talk about it!  
TG:  okay okay calm your tits dude dont throw a cow  
TG:  i just got back to casa de bromance  
TG:  can we hang there or is our tiny apartment not good enough for you  
EB:  no the apartment is fine! i’ll be right there!  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

            You put your phone away and stand up, making sure that you clean up your area before you go.  You start walking back to your car so that you can go back to the apartment that you and Dave decided to share.  Obviously you both couldn’t live at home, considering that you decided to go to a college neither in Washington or Texas.  The two of you wanted to go somewhere different, so you both decided on settling sort of in between the two states, and ended up in Denver, Colorado.  Neither of you really felt the appeal of living in a tiny little dorm room, so you both got jobs and decided to rent an apartment close to campus.  To spare money, it’s only a one-bedroom (but you each have your own twin-sized bed), and even if sharing a room can get a little invasive sometimes, you think it’s a lot of fun living with your best friend.

 

In less than ten minutes, you’re at the front door of the apartment, backpack and gym bag slung over your shoulders.  You turn the knob and open the door, knowing that it would already be unlocked since Dave was there.  You drop everything unceremoniously by the door, making a vow to pick it up and drag it to your room later.

            “Daaaaaaave, I’m hoooooooome!” you call out in a sing-song voice, just like you do every time you enter when he’s already here.  You hear some shuffling go on in the hallway, and Dave walks into the living room sporting a fashionable pair of red sweat pants and an old red shirt.

            “Hey. ‘Sup?” he responds, running a hand through his hair.  Both of you move to the couch, and he sits down while you basically fall onto it.  You turn so that your back is on the armrest, and you stretch your legs and place your feet in his lap.  Dave doesn’t say anything, but he does raise an eyebrow at you.

            “I had a shocking traumatic experience!” you exclaim, flopping your arms out next to you and sighing deeply.  “Like, really shocking! And it kind of really freaks me out, and I know Rose and Jade couldn’t really help me, so—“

            “Jesus, Egbert, just spit it out,” Dave interrupts.  You look at him, and then you sit up and pull your knees in close, leaning your chin on them.  You stare at Dave for a few moments, trying to see if you can elicit any sort of emotion out from underneath his shades, but after a few moments of stillness, you just sigh.

            “I kind of maybe had an incident where I saw a guy and maybe I saw him shirtless and it quite possibly might have maybe been attractive,” you say, feeling your face turn pink at the embarrassment of it all.

            You know that three years ago, when you were all just seventeen and still in high school, Dave informed you of having a similar crisis.  He didn’t really say as much as you did, just kind of sent you a message out of the blue one day that read “hey im bi” and that was kind of it.  You talked about it later, and once he was thoroughly convinced that you didn’t think he was gross or anything, he explained that he never saw you as anything more than his best bro, and you were really glad, because things could have been awkward otherwise.

            You sit there for at least two minutes, watching Dave for any sign of reaction.  He finally opens his mouth, but then he shuts it, and you are starting to wonder if you said the wrong thing.

            “So do you think you’re bi now, too, or…?” Dave lets the end of the question trail off, but you understand anyways.  You tilt your head so that your cheek is resting on your knees now too, and think about it seriously for a moment.

            “No, I really don’t think I would associate with being bisexual, because I don’t think I have ever found any other guy attractive like that, and I am still really, really into girls, but… Can I be straight, even if I am attracted to this one guy?”  You stare up at Dave, and you know that you have to be making the most pathetic, and probably really worried face because Dave sighs and brushes hair away from his face before turning back to you.

            “Okay, Egbert.  Here’s the thing:  sexuality isn’t this black or white or grey concept everyone thinks it is.  Sexuality is actually like a whole gradient from black to white, with every shade of off-black, grey, and off-white in between.  Attraction is chemical, man.  You can’t help it.  So you think one guy is attractive?  You’re still straight.”

            For some reason, hearing that suddenly lifts a weight off your chest.  You smile brightly and stretch an arm out towards Dave, your hand curled into a fist.  He smirks and stretches his arm out, too, giving you a small fist bump.  Personally, you would have rather hugged Dave, but you know that he is kind of weird about personal space.

            “Thanks!” you exclaim, already moving off the couch to go put your stuff away.  If you don’t do it now, you’ll forget later.

            You walk over to the door and pick up your things.  Suddenly, a timer goes off from the oven and you flinch, blinking curiously when Dave gets up to check it.  You suddenly notice the large pot on the stove and the array of vegetables on the counter.

            “Dave, what’s this?” you ask, curious.  Usually you’re the one who cooks, since Dave just never seemed to learn how to make anything more intricate than pasta.

            Dave, studiously looking over a piece of paper that you assumed to be a recipe he printed off the internet, simply studies what he’s supposed to do next, and says, “Soup.”

            “Yes, but why?” From the smell of it, Dave is making homemade chicken noodle soup: your favorite!  That suddenly makes you even more curious.

            “Dunno, man.  You seemed really urgent, so I thought something was wrong.  So I decided to maybe give you a break on cooking for one night.”  You smile and start moving to the bedroom to put your things away.  You shove everything under your bed, then hop onto your computer to check your messages.

            Several minutes into that, you hear Dave curse in the kitchen, and he stumbles into the bedroom looking thoroughly upset.  He is also covered in flour, and you frown a little as you wonder why.

            “Dave, why are you--?”

            “I was trying to figure out how to make cornbread and I hit the bowl.  I caught it, but it still fucking dumped this shit all over the place.”

            You stare at him for a few moments before outright laughing, and you bite your lip in an attempt to stop as Dave stares at you.  You can feel the glare he’s giving you from behind your glasses.  He turns away from you for a moment and pulls off his shirt, so that he can change into a clean one.  Your laughter stops immediately and you feel like someone just punched you in the gut.

            Dave’s shoulders have light, small freckles on them, and he has a scar on his lower back, just above his hip.  He’s toned and tan and you find yourself staring wide-eyed at him.

            You don’t know why you didn’t realize it sooner.


	2. Chapter 2

            You sit silently through dinner, and you can tell that Dave is staring at you through those glasses you got him for his birthday.  He must be worried about something, because Dave never really stares at you this much, but then again, you are never really this quiet.  You could probably write it off as still being mixed up about what happened earlier, because it is seriously kind of earth-shattering to figure out that you’re attracted to a guy when you have never been attracted to guys before.

            You know that Dave would see right through that lie.

            Dave is good at a lot of things, and seeing right through you is one of his special talents.  Whenever you feel sad or anxious or anything else, Dave is always the first person to figure it out, and he’s always the first one to try to help you through it.  He is the best kind of best friend, but you get the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t really be able to help you with this.  Especially since the guy you find yourself attracted to is him.

            “So, what did you do today?”  Dave asks, suddenly, and you nearly drop your spoon in your soup.  You look up at him, startled, and he is staring back at you, his face as stoic and blank as normal.

            “Oh, uh, nothing!  I just hung out in the food court for a little bit after class ended for the day,” you reply, feeling uneasy.  You can’t tell Dave that you were at the campus gym, or else he would know, because somehow Dave knows everything.

            “Oh, okay.  Cool,” he says, sipping a spoonful of soup.  You stare for a while, and then sigh.

            “What did you do, Dave?”  He looks up at you—halfway bent over his soup, eyebrows raised, small hints of his ruby eyes showing above the edge of his sunglasses—like he didn’t expect you to say anything more.  Your heart skips a beat and you feel like something is caught in your throat.

            “Oh.  I went swimming after class ended.  Gotta keep up appearances, you know?  Strider’s gotta stay fresh for all the ladies… and dudes.  Whatever.”  He smirks, just a little bit, and your head starts to feel a little fuzzy.  Images start seeping into your mind:  Dave, in swimtrunks, his hair slicked back because when it’s wet it gets in his face and he can’t see, no sunglasses on his face… You laugh, and it comes out sounding strained and nervous.

            “Of course!”

            The rest of dinner goes by painfully silent.  When it comes time to settle into the couch and watch Dave’s “ironic” television shows (there’s not really anything ironic about a 20-year-old guy watching _My Little Pony_ , but you let Dave pretend there is), you curl up next to the arm rest instead of stretching out all over the couch like you usually do.  Dave furrows his eyebrows a little bit, but doesn’t say anything.  The rest of the evening is spent in silence as well, and you two go to bed without saying a word.

 

The rest of the month goes by about the same.  You’re very distant, quiet, and maybe just a little avoidant, and you can tell that it is beginning to really bother Dave.  You don’t mean to upset him, but you just need some time to sort everything out.

            You ask yourself, “Could that really have been Dave?” but you already know for sure that the answer was yes.  Of course it was Dave.  Who else would have the exact same freckles, the exact same body structure, and the exact same scar?  It’s impossible for it to be anyone but Dave.

            Then you start asking yourself about feelings.  Okay, so Dave was attractive.  So you might be kind of attracted to him.  But do you like him too?  That’s the hardest question to answer so far, because Dave is your best bro—your palhoncho—and it’s difficult to think of him _like that_.  Thinking about it just makes your head hurt after a while, and you figure that something like feelings can’t really be rationally sorted out in your head, so you give up thinking about it after a while.

            After three weeks of silence, you finally figure that you’ve sorted enough stuff out to stop avoiding Dave like the plague.

            You come home early, deciding that your last class isn’t really worth it today (it’s an easy A anyways), and as soon as you enter your apartment, you drop your backpack off by the door.  You look around, not noticing Dave in the immediate area, and move towards the couch.  You walk around it, and are about to sit down, when you notice Dave all wrapped up in blankets, laying down and napping.  His shades are folded up and placed neatly on the small table next to the armrest he’s using as a pillow, and his hair is just a little bit in his face.

            Sleeping like this, he almost looks like he’s fifteen again.  You sit down on the edge of the couch cushion, just admiring the view.  You don’t see Dave asleep a lot, because he stays up later than you do, and even though you wake up before him most of the time, you usually have places you have to be, and things you have to do, so you’ve never really stopped to just look at him.

            You take in the way his mouth hangs open just a little bit, and the way his expression is relaxed and gentle, and you feel your chest tighten.  You never really noticed before, but Dave is really handsome.  He has a nice, strong jaw, a thin nose, and just a few freckles along his cheekbones.  The shades must have always covered the freckles up, and you kind of regret giving him those shades, because those things definitely have to be the reason why you never noticed how incredibly beautiful Dave is.

            You could stop to think about how you just called your best friend handsome and beautiful, and how you just spent a good minute admiring his face, but instead you choose to gently reach out, brushing a few strands of his platinum blond hair out of his face.  Suddenly, Dave scrunches up his nose, and when his eyelids start fluttering, you realize that you just accidentally woke him up. Whoops.

            “Egbert?” he asks, blinking at you, frowning a bit.  You smile, and he suddenly realizes that he’s shadeless, and so he starts fumbling about for his sunglasses.  You pick them off the small table and hand them to him, and he slides them on and shifts into an upright position.  He glances at the clock.  “What’re you doing back?  Don’t you have class?”

            “I decided to skip!” you chirp, smiling as if you haven’t been avoiding him for weeks.  “I’m such a rebel.”

            “Yeah, okay,” Dave scoffs.  He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to get it back into that “cool” style he has.  (Sometimes you think it makes him look like he walked off of a Beatles poster, but it somehow suits him.)

            “What about you, taking a nap on the couch and not in your bed?” you ask, tilting your head a little.  “Are you not feeling well?”  Dave stares at you for a moment after you say that, and then he just shrugs.

            “Guess I was too tired.  I was watching television, decided to take a nap, and oh look here’s a perfectly comfortable couch that I’m sitting on, blankets and everything.  Why stand up and walk to my bed?”

            You chuckle at him, and Dave frowns at you a little bit.  It’s almost like he doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly not avoiding him.  You can’t blame him.  You reach over and grab his face with both of your hands.  Dave tenses up, and you take that moment to slide his glasses right off of his face.  Startled ruby eyes stare back at you, and you grin.  Dave suddenly lunges, but you knew he would, so you dodge and quickly start moving away from the couch.

            Dave follows, and before you know it, the two of you are running around the apartment.  You’re giggling and trying not to trip over things, while Dave is looking exasperated and sort of jokingly annoyed.  After a few minutes, the two of you are breathing heavily, and you make a wrong move, coming around the corner of the hallway too fast and meeting a dead end.  Dave is right behind you, and he almost runs into you, but catches himself by putting his arms out, one on either side of you.

            The two of you stand there for a moment, breathing heavily, looking at each other.  Dave’s eyes are just _so red_ and you can’t bring yourself to look away.  He sticks his hand out, asking for the glasses, and you know you lost this round, so you place the glasses in his hand.  He slides them onto his face, and you just can’t stop smiling.  It felt so good to be joking around with him again, filling up your prankster’s gambit, and you didn’t know just how much you needed that.

            “Christ, Egbert, what the hell?  Stealing a man’s glasses right after he wakes up from a goddamn nap.  That is just rude, Egbert.  You are rude.”

            You can’t help but chuckle, bringing your fist to your chin and bending your shoulders and just laughing for the first time in nearly a month.  Dave raises an eyebrow at you, but he smiles, and not just a little smirk, but a smile, and that’s about as good as it’s going to get.  He even lets out a little “heh,” and after a while you calm down enough to breathe.

            “Sorry, Dave!  Everything felt a little tense, so I had to lighten up the mood!”  Dave takes a few steps back from you, and you separate from the wall a little bit, both of you still breathing deeply from running around so much.  You notice that Dave suddenly changes demeanor, and your smile starts to fade away.

            “After you told me about your sexuality crisis, why did you start avoiding me, Egbert?” he asks, and you can almost see his eyes behind the shades.  You can almost feel the hurt.  “Did I say something wrong?  Were you afraid that bisexual Dave was suddenly going to start hitting on you just because you’re attracted to one guy?  What did I do?”

            You’ve never seen Dave so upset, but you figure that he has right to be.  You are his best friend, and you did avoid him for nearly a month.  If Dave just up and ignored you like that, it probably would have torn you to pieces.  You frown, and look down at the floor.

            “No, Dave, it’s not… anything like that,” you begin, idly moving your foot around.  “It’s just… Oh, gee, okay.”  You have to tell him.  You know that he deserves it, and even if it makes things seven shades of awkward and awful, you at least owe Dave an explanation.  “The thing is, uh, that day, I had just gotten out of the campus gym, but I got all the way to the car and realized I forgot my keys, so I had to go all the way back, and there the guy was, half-naked, and uh… Dave, he had a scar right there on his lower hip, and he had freckles on his shoulders, and he was drying his hair…”

            You look up at Dave, eyes wide, and you know you look worried or anxious or scared, but you can’t help it, you’re about to mess up your relationship with your best friend.

            “Dave, the guy I saw that day was you.  Dave, I’m attracted to you!”  You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him.  You’re so embarrassed, and you just ruined everything. 

You tense up when you feel Dave step closer, when you feel his arms wrap around your back, when you feel his chin rest on your head.

            And all Dave says is, “So?”


	3. Chapter 3

            So?  That was all Dave had to say?  You potentially just ruined your friendship, and all Dave has to say is “ _so_ ”?  Your stomach is tied up in knots, flipping over itself, and your heart is beating so heavily in your chest that you think Dave has to feel it too; your mouth is dry, and there’s a lump in your throat, and all Dave can say is “so”?

            His arms are still tight around your back, and your face is being pressed into his collarbone.  Your arms are trapped between his torso and your torso, but you grip his shirt tightly and wait.  He has to have something else to say, some way for you to know that you didn’t ruin everything.

            “Listen, Egb—John,” he says, using your first name to address you, and now you know that he’s taking the situation seriously.  “Remember when I came out to you, and then told you over and over again for three hours that anything I felt for you was totally platonic and I did not, in actuality, have any sort of crush on my best bro?”

            You feel your throat tighten, and you nod, feeling his chin on your scalp.  This is it:  the moment of truth.  The moment where your life heads down a road on which it can never turn back.  You can barely breathe, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat.  You nod.

            “I lied.”

            Dave’s arms wrap even tighter around your back, as if he’s afraid you’re going to run away.  You’re grateful because you honestly think that if he wasn’t holding you so tightly, you would just collapse.  Your stomach is pulling out all the stops now, and you feel nauseous from how absolutely nervous you are.

            “Dave, what—?”

            “I knew how you were all ‘no homo’ at everything, and I thought that if I came clean and told you how I felt, then you might get awkward and we would drift away.  I couldn’t—can’t—bear to lose my best friend in the entire world, so yeah, I didn’t tell you, but while we’re all spouting out random confessions, my feelings haven’t changed even after all this time.”

            You then notice that you can feel Dave’s heartbeat on your hand, and good golly, he’s as nervous as you are.  You pull back just a little bit so that you can look up at him.  He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then he finally lowers his gaze to you.  You clear your throat.

            “So… where… does this… put… us?” You say, almost choking on the last word.  _Us_.  You’ve thought about this for a month, and during that time you’ve come to accept the fact that you like Dave.  There’s no denying that anymore.  Dave still likes you…

            “It puts us wherever you want it to,” Dave says.  He’s playing it safe.  You’re new to this, and he knows it, and he thinks that makes the situation extremely fragile.  That he might ruin everything, too.  To be honest, you’re twenty shades of confused, but if there is one thing you know, it’s that you are completely and totally useless without him.

            “I… want to,” you declare, looking up at him.  You wish now more than ever that you never gave him those stupid sunglasses (although you love how he treasures them so much because they’re from you).

            “Want to what, John?  Thre are a couple thousand ways to end that sentence.  ‘I want to eat something, I’m hungry,’ or ‘I want to throw up all over the place.’  Don’t leave me hanging, bro.”  He’s talking too much because he’s nervous and damn it all if that isn’t absolutely fantastic, because making Dave “Coolkid” Strider just as nervous as you are is a pretty great feeling.

            “I want to… date… you,’ you say slowly, averting your gaze to the floor.

            “Are you sure about this?  Because once friends go down that road, it doesn’t end pretty.  If it ends, you know.  It doesn’t have to end.  I’m just saying that if it does, it is usually pretty messay, and—“

            “Dave,” you interrupt, finally snaking your arms out from in between the two of you, placing your hands on each side of his head.  “Shut up.”

            “Yes, Sir,” Dave says quickly, leaning down and placing a small kiss on your forehead.

 

One week later, Dave has your first date all planned out, and your head is reeling from embarrassment.  So far, he’s held himself back to a few forehead and cheek kisses, hand-holding, and cuddling on the couch.  You know it has to be because he’s worried about you, and you’re really grateful for that.  You like Dave a lot, but being with a guy is still incredibly new and painfully awkward.  You’re so used to dating girls, and suddenly you feel like the girl, and you’re blindly stumbling through unknown territory.

            You’re sitting on the couch, already fully dressed for the date, and you’ve contemplated changing several times.  Is a blue shirt and khaki pants too dressy for a simple dinner-and-a-movie situation?  Okay, yes it is.  You rub back to your room and quickly change your khaki pants to a pair of dark blue jeans, which are totally dressier than light blue jeans.  You change your shoes to an old pair of black converse high tops, and throw on a dark blue jacket, deciding that the entire ensemble is perfectly casual while still being appropriately dressy.

            You go back out to the couch and sit down, glancing at the clock.  Dinner doesn’t start for another two hours.  Dave doesn’t even get back from class until an hour from now.  You are so over-prepared, and that makes it obvious how nervous you are, but what are you going to do?  When Dave asks if you’re ready to go, maybe you’ll go play with your hair or something so that it doesn’t seem like you just got up off the couch and didn’t really care to look good or anything.  Or maybe zero thought is exactly what you should strive for, because it shows that you’re comfortable with the situation and not at all nervous, because it’s like hanging out with your best bro, only with a little bit of hand-holding… Totally normal, right?

            Wrong.  Okay.  You stand up and start pacing around the couch, trying to dissect the situation.  You’re going to dinner, probably someplace like Applebee’s or Olive Garden.  Then you’re going to go see a movie that you picked.  You’ll be doing all of this with Dave.  You’ve done this a thousand and one times before, what makes this time so different?

            You halt in your tracks, eyes wide.  Oh, right.  It’s different now because the game’s been switched.  He’s not just your best bro anymore, he’s your boyfriend, and he’s already said he’d pay for it all, no matter how many times you protest.  Everyone knows the ‘guy’ pays for everything, so now you’re suddenly the ‘girl’ and that’s what makes this different.  This isn’t a bromantic irony date anymore, this is a legitimately romantic, goo-goo eyes and footsies under the table _date_.

            You sit down on the couch again, and glance at the clock.  Fifty-five minutes until Dave gets out of class.  Sixty-five minutes until he enters through that door.  One hundred and twenty-five minutes until you are getting in his car and going out with him _on a date_.  Godknowshowmany minutes until the whole thing is done and you can breathe more like a human being and less like a fish on an Arizona highway.

            You can do this.

  
The hour passes by slowly with you just sitting on the couch, staring at the television.  You hear the door click, and you scramble to turn the TV on, pretending like you are completely interested in what’s playing on the screen.  Dave gives you a small nod and a quiet “hey what’s up” and you reply with a lazy, but common, “not much.”  He puts his things away, and then he makes his way back to the couch, taking he seat next to you.  The two of you sit there in silence for the next hour.  Finally, Dave stands up and walks to the door, grabbing his keys off the counter and shrugging on his coat.  He pauses at the door and looks back at you.

            “Hey, are you coming?  Don’t wanna be late.”  You scramble onto your feet and follow after him a little too excitedly.

            You arrive at the restaurant approximately twenty minutes later (you were right, and he ended up picking Applebee’s.  It’s Dave’s favorite restaurant, but he’ll never admit it), and it all goes by relatively painlessly.  Dave orders some Cajun shrimp thing, and you stick to your chicken penne bowl, and the two of you talk about your day.  Dave does most of the talking, while you just kind of nod in agreement and say a few things in between small bites of your dinner.

            When the waiter brings one check, he eyes you kind of funny—or maybe you’re just imagining it—and suddenly your palms are kind of sweaty.  Dave pays and it just feels so awkward all over, because everything your dad told you about being a gentleman is going out the window because now you’re the lady, and you’re really not sure what to think about that.  Dave can tell you’re nervous because he snaps his fingers in front of your face, and you almost scream.

            “Earth to Egbert.  You okay in there?”

            You look at him— _really look at him_ —for the first time that night, and goddammit he pulled out all the stops.  There’s nothing really special about the way he looks, he dressed just like he dresses almost every day, but there’s just something about him that makes him look at least eighty percent more attractive than normal.

            “What?  Oh, yeah!  I was just, uh… wondering if I should have gotten that box after all?” you reply, looking down at the table.  You hear Dave chuckle, deep and soft, and you look back up at him.  He’s smiling, genuinely smiling, bright and normal and happy, and now you realize why he looked so attractive.  He’d been smiling the whole time.

            You realize that the people who have seen Dave smile like that could be counted on one hand, if it wasn’t already limited to just you, and you feel your cheeks grow warm.

            “Yeah, okay.”  The waiter comes back with Dave’s change, and Dave leaves a bit of it on the table for a tip.  “Anyways, you ready to go?”

Twenty-three minutes later, and you’re at the cinema, and Dave’s getting the tickets and he asks if you want any concessions, but you’re still pretty full from dinner, and so is he.  You picked some random movie because you were too nervous to figure out what any of them were about, and the one you picked appeared to be something like a sci-fi fantasy ordeal.

            The movie goes by pretty painlessly, Dave lightly holds your hand through the entire thing, and he even pulls the yawn-and-stretch arm reach just because he can (he’d probably call it ironic, but you just call it cheesy), and your face has to be a startling shade of red, but no one noticed in a dark theater.

It is now twenty-seven minutes after the movie ended, and you’re both standing outside the apartment, leaning against the doorframe.  Dave decided to just stand there and smirk at you instead of opening the door, and you would open it yourself, only you left your keys inside and Dave already pocketed the spare. You sigh and frown at him.

            “Dave, it’s cold, why aren’t we going inside?” you ask, looking up at him.  Dave only grins and leans down close.

            “First date, Egbert.  I’m dropping you off at your door like a proper gentleman,” he replies.

            “Dave, I’m not a girl and we both live here.”

            “I know.”

            “So what are you—?”

            Dave places a hand on your jawline, and before you even know what’s going on, his lips are pressed against yours.  You remain still for a few moments, trying to process the situation.  Dave’s lips are dry and a little chapped from the dry, cold weather, and they’re not at all like how you remember a girl’s lips feeling.  Girl lips are soft and smooth and actually kinda slippery from all the gloss and balm and whatever the hell else they put on them.  Dave lips are just a little bit rough, but still kind of soft, and definitely not slippery.  Girl lips taste like cherry and watermelon and strawberry, but Dave lips just taste like Dave.

            He starts to pull away a little, probably worried by how you’re just standing there, still as stone, but before he can pull away entirely, you reach up and grab his face, pulling him back.  This time, you’re responsive.  It’s a little bit awkward because you haven’t kissed anyone in a few months, and you’ve never kissed another guy, but you love it anyways because you’re kissing Dave fucking Strider and he’s kissing you back and your knees might be giving out just a little bit.

            Finally, you pull away, the need for air rather immediate, and you stare wide-eyed at Dave, dropping your hands to his shoulders.  You remain still like that for a few seconds, both of you just looking at each other, and you know he’s waiting for you to say something.  Waiting for you to say that this is okay and not too fast and not gross at all and not going to ruin what you just started.

            All you can say is, “Woah.”

            And all he says is, “Yeah.”


End file.
